I Am The Greyhound

Therapy is going well - and is providing me with lots of brain fodder to toss around. My therapist is this older gentleman who looks like he was a philosophy professor in a previous life. He wears ties and sweater vests with sport coats over them. He's a calm and even little man - which requires me to stop long enough for him to finish a sentence. This is a struggle for me - because I'm running at break neck speed and he's meandering down a thought pattern.

We've had a few significant discoveries in my last two sessions with him. The first being that I didn't realize I was as upset as I was about my Dad not being willing to take the baby girl for a night while we went to Chicago. Mr. M bought me tickets to Wicked in Chicago and we booked a hotel - it was awesome. My dad said that he wouldn't take the baby girl - and at the time I thought, ok, so he's not ready yet. Then when I was explaining it to my therapist I burst into tears.

Part of my struggle is that I feel so very much alone at times with this child rearing thing. Mr. M is totally on board and helps out tremendously, but the way our schedule is right now we are never home on the same day at the same time. We just pass the baby off, with no family time except for the 2 hours at night when one of us just gets home from work till she goes to sleep. So my weekends are not my weekends - I get no time for errands, hair appointments, laundry, etc. (which I should be doing all of right now - but instead I'm typing). Finding babysitters is tedious and I really would rather not do it because its like asking someone to do a favor for you all the time. That gets old - and I don't like the feeling of 'owing' people or 'needing' them or 'relying' on them.

Another thing that became apparent at my last session was that I'm constantly trying to achieve calmness and serenity. I'm pushing and running and pulling as hard as I can to get balance and happiness. Except, that I never get it. I can think of one time in my life when I had it. I was living in my own apartment, going to school, and working at the casino (making TONS of dough). I would hang out with work friends after work then sleep in till like 10 - go to class for an hour or two then head to work at 2 or 4. That rocked and I remember liking it alot.

Now I feel like if I just had a house with safe stairs, or laundry on the main floor, or a kitchen with a decent size pantry - THEN I would feel like everything wasn't such an uphill climb.

Or if I had a job that paid more, or if I quit my job all together, etc etc etc. The list goes on of all the ideas I have that could "solve" my discontent. My therapist told me I was a greyhound. I'm built for running. I run after that rabbit and I run like hell. I'm not sure what I'll do with that rabbit once I get it, and I've never actually had a rabbit before to know if I really want it - but goddamnit I NEED that rabbit.

So I'm going to attempt to retrain my brain to be a mutt - who enjoys sniffing around and meandering from thing to thing enjoying the journey and not focusing on the destination.

Yea... right.